


Five Tips for Brewing the Best Cup

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 01:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14438883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: A/N:Written for HP_Coffeehouse's prompt # 13: "5 Tips for brewing the best cup”, and for the 2018 Rarepair_Shorts' Number's Game featuring the pairing Gregory Goyle/Ernie Macmillan.Beta(s):Sevfan and Emynn.Disclaimer:The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.





	Five Tips for Brewing the Best Cup

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Written for HP_Coffeehouse's prompt # 13: "5 Tips for brewing the best cup”, and for the 2018 Rarepair_Shorts' Number's Game featuring the pairing Gregory Goyle/Ernie Macmillan.
> 
> **Beta(s):** Sevfan and Emynn.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

~

Five Tips for Brewing the Best Cup

~

_Pick quality beans._

“So, what’s good here?” 

Greg, his back to the counter, froze and took a calming breath. If he had a Knut for every time a customer said that to him…Well, he wouldn’t be a barista in a Muggle coffee shop, would he? It had already been an annoying day, so what was another annoyance?

Pasting a fake smile onto his face (he really should send Pansy a thank you owl for teaching him how to do that), Greg then turns around. “That depends on what sort of coffee you prefer—” He paused when he saw the man standing there. Not only was he gorgeous, but he looked oddly familiar. “Oi, do I know you?” 

He was blond and stocky, with beautifully broad shoulders and a smile that was rapidly fading as a look of recognition crossed his face. “Goyle, isn’t it? Gregory Goyle?” 

Greg frowned. “MacIntosh, right? Or Macmillan?” 

“Macmillan, yes,” the bloke confirmed. He looked around before leaning in and asking, “Is this place magical, then?” 

Greg shook his head. “Entirely Muggle.” 

“Then why are you—?” Macmillan paused. “Sorry. That’s rude. It’s none of my business.” 

“No,” agreed Greg, “it’s not.” Clearing his throat, he said, “Why are you here, anyway?”

Macmillan smiled. “I’m here because it’s close to my Apparation point for work and it smelled interesting as I was walking by. Anyway, is there anything you recommend?” 

“Our featured bean today is Arabica.” Greg sighed. “But if you’re not used to straight coffee, I’d suggest you start with a mocha or cafe au lait. Do you like hot chocolate?” 

“Sure, who doesn’t?” 

Greg snorted. “You’d be surprised. Okay, one mocha coming up.” 

“Brilliant.” 

As Macmillan watched him gather his ingredients and make the drink, Greg tried not to seem self-conscious. When he turned back towards Macmillan, cup in hand, he said, “Here you go. Enjoy.” 

Macmillan accepted the cup and took a sip, his eyes widening. “Mmm. That’s bloody delicious, that is. I could drink ten of those.” 

“Wouldn’t recommend it,” said Greg, beginning to clean up the equipment. He smirked. “You’ll be jittery all day and could have trouble sleeping.” 

Macmillan hummed. “Thanks. I’ll remember. How much do I owe you?” And once he’d paid, he cleared his throat. “After this you recommend trying straight coffee?” 

“Not necessarily.” Greg shrugged. “You may need to work your way up to that.” 

“Good.” Macmillan actually winked. “Because I’m not generally into anything too…straight. See you, Goyle.” 

Mouth open, Greg watched him go, eyeing his arse as he left. Apparently his day was looking up. 

_Measure your coffee._

By the end of his shift the following day, Greg was knackered. Macmillan, despite the flirting, hadn’t returned, and, in a foul mood, Greg waited out the clock so he could clean up and leave. 

Not that he had anyplace to exciting to go, really. His flat was awful, he had no friends except Pansy and Draco, neither of whom were in any better situation, and he definitely didn’t have a social life. 

Macmillan had been his hope for that, and even though it had only been a day, Greg had expected…something. After all, the way he’d looked at Greg had denoted no small amount of interest. 

At about five minutes to his escape, the bell on the door rang. 

Cursing under his breath, Greg turned around. “We’re about to close—”

“Yeah, I know,” said Macmillan. “Work’s been mad, and I almost broke the Statute of Secrecy getting here before you closed.” He smiled. “I thought I could buy you a cup of coffee this time. Or something stronger.” 

Greg blinked. “You…what?” 

“I’m asking you out for a drink.” Macmillan grinned. “With me. Or, if you can’t manage it tonight, maybe another time?” 

“I have to clean up the shop.” Greg licked his lips. “But then I can…I don’t have any plans.” 

“Brilliant.” Macmillan looked around. “Want me to help you clean up? There aren’t any Muggles around, are there?” 

Greg shook his head. “No, but they have cameras up.” He nodded at one in a corner. “We can’t do anything odd or they’ll see.” 

“Right.” Macmillan pursed his lips. “Well, I can wait for you if nothing else.” 

“Sure.” Greg hummed. “You sure you don’t want a coffee while you wait? Technically we’re open another two minutes.” 

“I’ll take another of those things I had yesterday,” Macmillan said. He smirked. “Although maybe with half the coffee in it. I had trouble falling asleep last night.” 

“Yeah?” Greg coughed, meeting Macmillan’s eyes. “Are you sure that was the mocha and not something else?” 

“Like what?” 

“Oh, I dunno.” Greg looked him up and down. “An overactive imagination, maybe?” 

Macmillan threw back his head and laughed, and Greg’s mouth went dry as he eyed his corded neck. “I admit, I do have a great imagination,” Macmillan finally said. “I wouldn’t call it _overactive_ , though. I’d call it just active enough.” He raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be making me a mocha?” 

“Yes,” said Greg, his voice hoarse. He turned away. “One mocha, coming up.”

“Thanks,” said Macmillan. He sauntered towards the counter, standing there as Greg worked. 

Feeling the heat of his gaze, Greg cleared his throat. “Don’t you want to sit? I’ll bring you your drink.” 

Macmillan shook his head. “I like watching you work.” 

“Me?” Greg scowled. “Why? I’m nothing much to look at. I’m too big for all that.” 

“Some people like their men big.” Macmillan hummed. “There’s nothing wrong with having some meat on your bones.” 

Greg smiled despite himself. Fuck, he was in trouble. 

_Pre-infuse your grounds._

“Oi! G! Your boyfriend’s here.” 

Greg, on a fag break in the alley, looked up. “Ernie you mean?” 

Rob, his co-worker smirked. “You got more than one boyfriend?” 

Greg huffed. “He’s not my boyf—” But Rob was already gone. 

Shaking his head, Greg dropped the fag, grinding it out under his heel. He had no idea what Ernie was to him. They’d gone to a nearby pub together a few times, Ernie came to the coffee shop every day, and Greg was making him various coffee drinks to see which he liked best. But they hadn’t _done_ anything, much to Greg’s frustration. 

Walking into the shop, Greg made his way to the counter. Ernie was there, sitting at a table by the window, and he looked up the moment Greg appeared. A slow smile spread across his face and he stood up. 

“They told me you were on break,” he said when he got to the counter. “I figured I’d wait for you since I didn’t want to interrupt or be a bother.” 

“I spend my breaks in the alley out back,” said Greg. “And you’re never a bother.”

“Are you supposed to on break now?” asked Ernie. At Greg’s nod, he grinned. “Then I’ll meet you in the alley in two ticks.” 

“You don’t have to—”

“Greg,” Ernie interrupted. “It’s no problem. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

By the time Greg got back to the alley, Ernie was there waiting. Greg shifted from foot to foot, unsure what to do.

“So what do you do out here?” Ernie asked. “Just…enjoy the ambience?” 

Greg snorted. “Usually I smoke, but I used my last fag.” 

“Shame.” Ernie moved closer. “You’ll have to come up with something else to do out here.” 

Greg, heart racing, shrugged. “Like what? Not much else to do out here by myself.” 

Ernie leaned in, his arms bracketing Greg. “But you’re not by yourself now, are you?” 

“No…oof.” 

The kiss started out awkward but then Ernie tilted his face just so, and Greg opened his mouth and once tongues got involved, everything improved. For one thing, when Greg’s hands settled on Ernie’s arse and he squeezed, Ernie _moaned_ , closing his arms around Greg to drag him closer. 

All in all, it was bloody satisfying, and it was only a noise that made them break apart. 

“I’ve been dying to do that that ages,” breathed Ernie, drawing back. 

“Why haven’t you?” Greg’s voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat. 

Ernie’s eyes searched Greg’s. “Because I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Just because you like getting a pint with me doesn’t mean you want more. You’re a hard man to read.” 

“Me?” Greg snorted. “I’ve been ogling your arse for ages.” 

“Yeah?” Ernie grinned. “Good to know.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of Greg’s mouth. “Something tells me you’re going to be seeing a lot more of it soon.” 

“Merlin,” whispered Greg. “I hope so.” 

“Oi, G. Your break’s over in five. Almost time to stop snogging your _not-boyfriend_ and get back to work.” Rob, a smirk on his face, was at the door. 

Without taking his eyes from Ernie’s, Greg said, “Piss off. Five minutes is five minutes.” And ignoring Rob’s laughter, he kissed Ernie again. 

_Brew at the right temperature._

Now that he had an actual, real-life boyfriend, Greg was torn. On one hand he wanted to keep Ernie to himself, and on the other he wanted everyone to know. Not that many people would care, although he was pretty sure Pansy and Draco would be happy for him. Surprised, but happy. 

In the end it was Ernie who decided things. “How would you feel about hanging out with some of my friends this weekend?” 

Greg, who had been massaging Ernie’s feet, froze. “As in a party?” 

“Not a party, just…a bunch of us go out Saturdays. We pick different pubs to visit. It’s become a bit of a thing.” 

“Who goes?” 

“A bunch of people.” Ernie grinned. “Even some Slytherins.” 

Greg blinked. “Yeah? I guess it’d be okay.” 

“Yeah? Brilliant.” Bending his knees, he leaned in and kissed Greg, and any more conversation was derailed after that. 

On the big night Ernie went to the coffee shop to collect Greg after his shift was done. The place was heaving, and Greg didn’t end up leaving until thirty minutes after his usual time. Which meant they were the last to arrive at the pub. 

“All right?” asked Ernie, Greg’s taking hand in his just as they prepared to enter the Lion and Badger.

“Yeah,” said Greg, his heart racing. 

As they approached the table, however, he spotted Draco and…Potter? Their heads were together, and it was clear they were involved. As if sensing Greg’s gaze, Draco looked up, blinking when he saw who it was. “Greg?” 

Another figure detached themselves from the group to look. “Greg?! You’re here!” Pansy stood up, launching herself at him. Then, drawing back, she looked pointedly at his and Ernie’s joined hands. “Ooh, you have a story to tell. Are you being good to our Gregory, Macmillan?” 

Greg, unused to being anyone’s anything, blinked, but Ernie simply laughed easily and said, “We’re being good to each other, Parkinson.” 

That seemed to be good enough, and the rest of the group, who ranged from Loony Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, to assorted Weasleys, one of whom, George, was attached to Pansy, all welcomed them, making space for them to sit and taking their drink orders. 

Once they’d settled into the crowded booth (some enterprising member of the group had surreptitiously expanded it using magic) Greg felt surprisingly relaxed. 

“Having fun?” whispered Ernie in his ear. 

Greg shrugged. “I suppose.” 

Ernie laughed, squeezing Greg’s thigh. “Guess I’ll have to see what I can do to brighten your evening, then.” 

By the time they started snogging, Greg didn’t even care that other people were present.

_Use the right water._

Greg eyed the clock, feeling impatient. The coffee shop was empty, but of course he had to wait for exactly nine to close. He sighed. 

Rob, also scheduled to close, groaned. “Oh bloody hell, just go. I’ll close.” 

Blinking at him, Greg said, “Huh?” 

“It’s obvious you’ve plans. Go on, get out of here. I’ll close tonight.” 

Greg frowned. “You sure? Why?” 

“Yeah.” Rob rolled his eyes. “And I guess I’m a sucker for a good love story. I totally ship you and your not-boyfriend, mate. So go. Take him some coffee. Have amazing sex and show up glowing like you have been lately. It’s better than watching you mope around here.” 

Greg didn’t wait for him to change his mind, he grinned, slapped Rob on the back and, grabbing his coat, started for the door. 

“Oi, aren’t you taking him a mocha?” 

Greg skidded to a stop, racing back to make the fastest mocha of his life. In about ninety seconds he was racing out the door and within two minutes he was outside Ernie’s workplace, mocha in hand. 

When Ernie emerged two minutes later, Greg was standing there. Ernie spotted him immediately and, grinning, walked towards him. “What are you doing here? I thought you were closing tonight.” 

“Rob ships us?” Greg shrugged. “He told me he’d close, so…” 

“Is that a mocha for me?” Ernie grabbed the cup, taking a sip. His resultant moan made Greg’s trousers go tight. “Merlin. If I didn’t already love you, your mocha making skills would have seduced me.” 

Greg laughed, linking their arms and leading him toward the exit. “Good thing I’m the whole package then, isn’t it?” 

Ernie chuckled, leaning in and giving him a deep, mocha-flavoured snog. “Good thing.”


End file.
